Splinters of God
by ag-sasami
Summary: When God is torn away from a piece of himself, how does the splinter cope? What hope remains when all the revenge in the world cannot reunite the shattered pieces? Entry for Chibizoo's Second Yugioh Fanfiction Contest


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**Splinters of God**

**Username [Author]:** Anime Girl Sasami

**Rating: **PG-13  

**Category: **Other 

**Warnings: **Oblique hints of shounen-ai

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There comes a time when you stop living. Not literally of course… 

"How does it feel? How does it feel to lose the only thing you loved? Tell me!"

You just find yourself empty and hurting and lonely and you stop because there is nothing left for you. Completely without hope, you press on because you fail to see the purpose in doing anything to the contrary.

"Don't you see? You are not God! God is dead, and you are the one to blame. I am all that's left now."

Maybe you exact a lasting and agonizing revenge to rival your own pain, but it is difficult to muster even that. Lifeless. Empty. Alone. Always alone.

_Have you ever lost God before? Not in a religious sense, I am not talking about faith. I mean physically. Have you ever had God ripped physically from your body, from every pore, from every fiber and sinew, from every muscle and vein?_

"You will suffer as I have. I never could be whole, and now you never will be again."

He burns and tears and claws and bites and harms and tries to stay and tries to hold onto you, the one bit of sanity left for him, and he fails, and you hurt and you hurt and you hurt even more, and you cannot breathe. I cannot breathe.

"I hate you."

You hurt as though someone has drawn and quartered your soul, as though you have been embalmed alive, as though the best part of you is gone. And do you know why? Because it is! Your body feels as though it will combust, and that would be a kinder fate in the end. Blood boils, vision swims, head pounds, and you run the gauntlet through Hell and back, all the while shrieking and weeping and clinging to one another. Not physically of course. 

_No. I could never touch God physically. Brushing minds and evanescent touches, all figments of reality. Only I knew him. Only I felt him in the recesses of my mind, whispering words of love and passion and violence and hate, only for me. But I could never touch him, not like you and yours. _

_There is no remorse to be found here, no sympathy, nothing for him…me…us…_

"You have already lost it all! There is nothing left for you here, and what is more, this is the best part really, you no longer have the capacity to die from it! That was always your strength in this, this war game. Death was your wild card. Lose it all, and it means nothing. Well, it means something now."

He never had the capability to stand beside me, bodily or emotionally. Not like you. Two hearts beating rather than one. All stolen kisses and touch and feel and take and hold and Ra, I hate you. We were the same person, a dichotomy of perfection, the dark and the light confined to one body. You are two separate entities, shadows of one another trapped unwillingly within one soul. Are you willing now? Would you give your life to be trapped in his soul once more?

"All of that blood would have pleased you once pharaoh. I too have felt the rush of death through my fingers, pouring it gently down the throat of the unsuspecting lamb. Ku. To think that in your eyes, all of this is heinous and unfounded. An eye for an eye great and mighty king."

Once upon a time, you were connected in a manner I could never know; death for one means death for the other. I suppose that is my advantage now. Killing God does not destroy his divine retribution; it merely purges any semblance of morality from the deed in the end. For you however, death will not come. Instead, you will suffer as I have.  

"Your mind was weakened by your lack of foresight. Did you forget about me, about my magic, about my darkness? Nothing will save you now, and your fate is far worse than mine."

_Bitter regret and hate and angry tears fueled him, and yet I cannot hope to have God return despite a resurgence of these violent emotions. The essence is gone, his persona banished to a realm of shadows for eternity. Even I am incapable of saving him there, so I felt it was necessary to intensify your pain to rival mine. _

"Play with magic for malevolent purposes, and you will find it returned with three times the intensity. How about a hundredfold more intense? Imagine that. The pharaoh too weak to stop his most _loyal_ of followers from taking control."

_How does it feel knowing that you nothing you are capable of could stop this madness? Infuriating is it not? Do you enjoy the insanity clawing at your throat, forcing its way into your mind, and into your soul? Do you? That bitter intoxication of lunacy roaring through your veins as you slowly lose what sanity you could once call your own. It damages._

_There comes a time when you doubt you posses even a shred of sanity any longer. It stalks you slowly, stealthily, and seizes upon you out of the dark. Thoughts are as lucid as mud, and words are often less intelligible than that. Somehow, you have to straighten things out, but your head is too chaotic to attempt it. It is not worth the effort in the end; as soon as you see with clarity, you find yourself blinded by rage and tears you thought you had filed with the rest of your forgotten emotions. You did not. You cannot. Those moments are the only time you hold that intelligibility as your own._ _Without him, I am damaged._

"I have done nothing. Well, I certainly did not make this mess. Blood splattered against sandstone and about your feet in a pool, lying very still, gleaming dark red in this torchlight. Crimson overrunning in rivulets into the cracks eternity has wrought upon this sacred ground. I did not spill his blood. It would be blasphemous to spill the blood of an innocent in the tomb of the dead, especially your tomb pharaoh. God save your soul now. Oh, that's right."

Even with him, I could not have done this on my own. No, it takes magic beyond comprehension to control a mind, fools and kings alike. Mortals wished to control the magic, to bend it to their will, to suffocate it into submission. Only an item can control that magic. You cannot separate an item from its master try as you may. 

"Look at you on your knees weeping over a mortal. Granted, he was the missing half of your soul, but this, this is ridiculous. You claimed to be stronger than that, did you not? Yet, there you are all covered in blood, tears, and sweat. It never ceases to amaze me how one person can hold so much blood."

The sheer thought of exacting torture upon one's soul, using that magic said person tried to steal in the first place, leaves me positively giddy. Yes, giddy. The darkest part of me belongs to me again; God is dead. I can revel in the thoughts of demise and destruction because they are mine to own yet again. When all is said and done, I find joy in the aspects of me that once belonged to him. Time heals all wounds.

"I suppose you fancy me mad now. Could a person who has lost their sanity lure you here as I have done? Could a person driven by insanity control your mind as I have done? When all is said and done great pharaoh, your hand dealt the final blow. You alone called the shadows forth, and you alone released their attack. Who here is mad now?"

What a lie. Time heals nothing; it only infects the wound. Wounds caused by ancient magic are irreversible. Shadows are ancient magic. They beckon me with their cold embrace and heliotrope eyes. It is only a matter of time before I accept their demands, for what could be better than eternity?

"Of course, I did suggest the attack quite aggressively. No. I forced you to attack didn't I? Hn. At least I was decent enough to let you watch his final moments. At least I let you watch the shadows tear into him. A beautiful sight it was to watch too, you coming to your senses to see the attack you sent ripping through him."

I don't think I will ever find him again. God. At least I will not be alone here in the shadows. I have sent enough souls here to keep me company, pleasant or otherwise. It won't be long now. The grief will turn to anger, and anger always leads to revenge. Quick and painful. Here it comes. Wait for it…wait for it…

"They sliced through him like butter, puncturing that beautiful alabaster skin and maiming those innocent features, amethyst eyes rolling back into his head, tears mixing with blood as they trickled down his face. But you saw that didn't you? You saw the blood spilling from every inch of his body. Why? Because I let your mind go just so you could see him die. Wasn't that considerate of me?"

I cannot see reality any longer. I know it's there in front of me blood-soaked and furious, but I think I will continue to ignore it. The pharaoh wants me dead I suppose. Starlight, star bright…I wish I may, I wish I might, I wish you were dead too. Let him win. I always let them win.

"Even now I let you hold him as his blood stains your skin and spills down your lips. Say goodbye."

I'm not ready to go. I'm not ready to let go of him. I'm not ready to be lost again. I don't think I'm okay anymore. It's too cold here. It's too dark. I'm not ready to be alone. I don't think I was ever okay. Twinkle, twinkle little star…don't leave me here without him…

**~Owari~**

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**Author's Notes: **

Splinters of God:  My title…I got the idea during my AP English class one day as a result of a brief digression centered on William Blake and his bizarre theory on creation: There was one omnipotent being [God] who was split into light and dark. Each of these was then split in two, and each of those split into two, and onward the cycle continues so that in the end, everything is a splinter of the original cosmic being. Mostly, I thought it was a cool concept, but Malik is sort of a splinter of god himself since Yami no Malik considered himself God [or at least worthy of the status.] 

In the event that my ficcu is a bit confusing, I'm going to briefly explain it:

Yami no Malik, having essentially been destroyed by Yami no Yuugi [post Battle City I believe], left Malik with his own anger, hate, and bitterness toward the pharaoh once again, as YnMalik was the personification of these emotions. Unable to cope with the loss, Malik lures the pharaoh and his hikari [Yuugi] to YnYuugi's tomb through mind control via the Millenium Rod, because YnYuugi's mind had grown weaker to magic due to a lack of necessity for its strength. Here in the tomb, YnMalik forces YnYuugi, still through mind control, to call forth the shadows and release an attack against Yuugi. However, he lets the control slip just in time for YnYuugi to see the attack ripping through his hikari. Basically the story is the aftermath of the attack in Malik's point of view as he loses his last bit of sanity and YnYuugi prepares to destroy him. It's all centered around "eye for an eye" justice.

**Thankies to Edmondia Dantes for beta reading my little ficcu here!** Gomen ne Edmondia-sensei! *^^ I forgot to add this to the copy I entered to the contest! *guilty* 


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